The last full-fledged Adam Sandler comedy I saw was the awful You Don’t Mess With the Zohan in 2008. That was after enduring such trash as Click, I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry and The Longest Yard. I successfully avoided Grown Ups and Jack and Jill and now, four years later, I’m giving him another shot… Why I chose That’s My Boy as my comeback feature was largely due to its being rated R, which oddly enough is Sandler’s first R-rated movie since Funny People and when it comes to comedies, Bulletproof is the only other R-rated comedy he’s made (Punch-Drunk Love, to me, is a drama). With that and any other qualifications aside, to my great surprise, I actually had some fun with this flick, though I’m a little embarrassed to admit it.
Make no mistake, That’s My Boy is a stupid movie. Really stupid. It easily serves as an example of one of the lowest forms of comedy out there. Giving good reason as to why I found it funny in a review is nearly impossible as I’d almost just as quickly deride a similar film for all the same reasons this one made me laugh. Fortunately, there are a few specifics I can point out, but let’s get the story points out of the way first.
The film begins in something of a shocking manner as a 14-year-old Donny Berger strikes up a sexual relationship with his 8th grade teacher, Ms. McGarricle. The relationship carries on for the latter half of the school year until the two are caught and McGarricle is sent to jail for 30 years, but not before she gets knocked up. In the aftermath Donny becomes something of a reality star in what is essentially a spoof on the Mary Kay Letourneau and Vili Fualaau situation, a kid is born, the boy and his father grow apart and Donny’s life slowly falls into ruins.
Fast forward to present day. Having changed his name and told everyone he knows that his parents died in an explosion, Todd Peterson (Andy Samberg) is preparing for his wedding while his theoretically dead father is down on his luck. Stuck owing back taxes, Donny has a week to pay off $43,000 (“43 g-birds” as Donny calls it) or it’s off to the slammer.
Seeing no other choice, Donny concocts a scheme that will get him off the hook, but it involves reuniting with his estranged son for a prison-set family reunion, all to be aired on a sleazy talk show. Once the motives are in place, the expected situations come about. Donny crashes his son’s wedding weekend under the guise of being his longtime best friend, Sandler dons a stupid fake voice and Samburg humps and vomits on his wife’s (Leighton Meester) wedding dress. And strangely enough, I found a lot of it to be quite funny.
As Donny, Sandler causes all the usual trouble you’d see in a film of this sort, and is nevertheless accepted by Todd’s extended family and boss. Todd, instead, is looked at as the weird one while Sandler dons a Boston accent that sounds as if his character might be mentally challenged, which is the one part of the film that really irked me to no end. Donny is already a foul-mouthed piece of white trash, why present him as a character that should probably be medicated? Maybe they focus grouped that and it came back people like stupid fake voices over naturally sounding people, but for this film’s almost two hour duration it’s a bit much.
The film does succeed, however, in the smaller details. A silly call back to the Budweiser “Wasssuuup!” guys; Vanilla Ice playing and making fun of himself; same goes for Todd Bridges; and perfect casting of Susan Sarandon. I was also baffled and yet entertained by the odd insertion of ESPN talents Dan Patrick and Erin Andrews along with New York Jets head coach Rex Ryan playing Jim Nance (would have been great if they somehow worked the actual Jim Nantz in somehow). Why were they cast? I don’t know, but I had fun with it.
Will Forte was funny, Peggy Stewart as Grandma Delores added some laughs, Milo Ventimiglia goes over the top and James Caan even gets a couple of laughs as a raging ex-fighter-turned-priest.
Where the film succeeds is in Donny’s acceptance of any and all unacceptable behavior, not to mention his participation in said behavior while also trying to play dad. Vanilla Ice (aka Robert Matthew Van Winkle) as “Uncle Vanny” was a stroke of genius and, surprisingly, it doesn’t wholly rely on gross-out humor. They even managed to keep the faux sentimentality to a limit, which traditionally bogs down a film like this, forgetting it’s supposed to be about the laughs and not the tears — a problem 21 Jump Street ran into in its latter stages earlier this year.
None of this is to say this is some comedic masterpiece, but if you’re looking for some R-rated laughs this one supplies enough humor to make it worth your while. It does run too long and the Sandler voice did, at times, get on my nerves, but overall I have no problem recommending this as a piece of solid, low rent raunchy comedy.
